While the Convention's in Town
by JustInunotaisho
Summary: A small oneshot of my favorite anime, video game, and book characters on their off hours complaining about fanfiction. Nonslash. InuyashaCowboy BebopKOTORTerry PratchettFF7Trigun crossover and under, around and insideoutlookjustreaditandtellmewhatyouthink


Disclaimer: Sincere apologies to all anime and video game owners and Terry Pratchett, too. I don't own these characters; come to think of it, if I did, I could auction dates off on ebay...

Night in all its star-strewn glory was rapidly overthrowing the day. It was the time when most working men and women headed home to begin the weekend with some family time or a wild party or two.

In a certain bar, a hanyou with velvety dog ears and long silver hair slouched up to the bar and sat on a barstool. "Barkeep! Give me a double Jenova Tail heavy on the Vodka," he ordered. Turning to his friend, he raised an eyebrow. "Miroku?"

His priest friend sat down, gingerly touching the red mark on his face. "One Supernova with extra Corellian pepper."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, a chilled glass of glittering vermillion liquid slid along the bar, followed by a drink colored a poisonous purple. Both of them nodded their thanks to the barkeep, a tall, bony fellow with a permanent grin and black clothing.

Inuyasha took a long gulp of his drink. "What is it with women, Miroku?" he burst out, the alcohol numbing the pain in his back. "You say just one thing at the wrong time and suddenly 'Osuwari!'"

"I can sympathize," agreed Miroku, looking wise as he sipped his drink. "Attempt to be friendly, extend the hand of peace, and they perform the slap of war." He sighed, his sealed hand cupping his chin as he stared dejectedly at the bar mirror.

"Keh!" Inuyasha scowled at the monk. "It's two different things. Everybody knows where your 'hand of peace' tries to go. You deserve all the slaps."

The monk returned the glare. "And who's to say you don't deserve the Osuwaris?! Every time you run off to see Kikyo, it hurts Kagome."

"It's still different," insisted the hanyou. "Kikyo died and I couldn't protect her. Now that she's back, I can't make the same mistake again, even…" He hesitated, a claw plucking the cherry out of the Jenova Tail and swinging it by its stem absently. "Even though I love Kagome. It's hard to explain."

"Sounds like you want to be forgiven."

Inuyasha nodded and tossed back the rest of his drink, then jerked his head around to regard the stranger who had spoken.

His first impression was…spikes? Elongated shafts of gelled hair added a good four inches of height to the short man with the gargantuan sword on his back. Two orbs of dark blue were his eyes, each conveying a melodramatic melancholy. Miroku would have wagered a lot of money that he rode a motorcycle, judging by the black leather clothes and gloves.

"What do you know?!" demanded Inuyasha abruptly, furious at the intrusion. "Go away!"

The stranger instead swung a leg over the stool next to Inuyasha, casting a jaundiced eye over the hanyou's scarlet clothes. "Friendly chap, aren't you?"

"Don't mind him. He's angry because no one else is supposed to know how he feels. Like a drink?" offered Miroku as he motioned to the bartender.

"Thanks. I'm Cloud, by the way." Cloud reached a gloved hand across and shook Miroku's, both impressed by the other's strong grip. "I'll have a Sesshoumaru's Anger with a Flashblack chaser."

Despite his irritation, Inuyasha's eyes bugged out. "A Sesshoumaru's – man, you are brave. Even youkai stay away from that cocktail." His jaw dropped open as Cloud took up the glass and drained half the smoky mercury-hued drink without flinching.

"After spending a full week on the Highwind with a prank-happy ninja, you can drink anything." Cloud put the glass down. "Are you in town for the fanfic convention?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Another stranger of medium height, dark hair and cool brown eyes sat on the stool next to Miroku. He motioned to the barkeep. "Do you know how to make a decent Corellian Plainsman?"

**INDEED. TWO JIGGERS OF CORELLIAN WHISKEY IN ONE PART CORELLIAN ALE. DO YOU PREFER WHYREN'S RESERVE OR TWELT'S SINGLE MALT?**

"Whyren's Reserve." A split second later, a mug thumped down next to his hand. The stranger took a long pull and shifted on the stool, his ribbed jacket squeaking. He noticed the three looking at him. "What?"

"Go away. This is our section of the bar." Inuyasha's amber eyes bored into the man's face. His trademark hard stare was having the same effect as it had on a certain Miko from modern-day Japan. None.

"What section's that? The Unlucky In Love Pity Party?" The man's voice was born to be sarcastic.

"Yeah. You got a problem with that?" demanded Inuyasha.

"I know how you feel."

"Keh!" Inuyasha motioned for a fill-up on his empty glass. The barkeep switched him for a full one. "All right," he grumbled, nursing his drink. "Tell us your story."

"Everybody's heard it a thousand times before." The man rolled his eyes. "I love this one woman, see." His voice grew tender, his eyes distant as he described her short braided hair and gleaming hazel eyes. "Imagine, she loved me, too. Me, Atton Rand - the ordinary, the drifter. We were both exiles and that created a bond between us."

"So, what happened?" cut in Cloud, looking interested. "Did she die?"

"No. She left."

"So she dumped you?"

"No," corrected Atton, sighing forlornly and dropping his head onto his arms. "She left. Someone told her that she had to go somewhere and couldn't take anyone she loved with her."

For a moment, there was silence. Then, there was a sniffle from Inuyasha. Miroku, utterly astounded, saw a tear trace a path down the hanyou's cheek. He looked at Cloud, who also seemed to have something in his eye.

"At least," sighed Inuyasha. "In leaving you, she told you without a doubt she loved you, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so, but-…"

"No buts!" shouted the hanyou, the Jenova Tails lending him volume. "At least she said, in some way, she loved you and you alone!"

"He's right. When a girl I knew and loved died, I didn't get to say goodbye. I don't really know how she felt then." Cloud's glove squeaked as he clenched his fist. "Especially when I was there and could do nothing to prevent her death," he added quietly.

Miroku nudged his friend. "That sounds familiar…"

**WOULD ANYONE LIKE A REFILL?**

Everyone nodded and the barman worked his way down the line. Cloud raised an eyebrow. "Dare I ask what _you're_ doing in town?"

**EVEN WITH THE FANFICTION CONVENTION TRUCE IN EFFECT, THERE ARE A FEW INDIVIDUALS WHO FORGET AND REQUIRE GENTLE REMINDERS.**

"Being beaten over the head with a scythe handle is gentle?"

**IF YOU HAD REMEMBERED THE TRUCE LAST TIME, ATTON RAND, YOU WOULD BE MINUS ONE BRUISE. **Calmly, the bony figure began to polish a glass. A small "Mya" announced the entry of a small black cat. It sauntered over and hopped up on the bar next to Cloud. The barkeep gave it a pat and poured a dish of milk.

Atton grumbled something along the lines of "that old witch" and drank. "I hate these conventions because of everybody's warped imaginations," he complained. "Any person in their right mind knows that she's supposed to fall in love with _me_ and not some fancy-pants bookworm from Dantooine…"

"Really? I thought the one about you and Mira was rather well written…"

"Are you nuts?!" Atton's voice rose a few decibles. "After that, neither she or the Exile would speak to me for two whole weeks." An utterly depressed look fell over his face. "Why me?"

"You think _you've_ got problems? Just when I got over Aeris and started dating Tifa, what do those fanfic writers do?! PAIR HER UP WITH SEPHIROTH!" With a crash, the blond spiky-haired man slammed his fist on the bar in anger.

"Hah!" snapped Inuyasha. "You ain't felt real agony until you've met a Mary Sue…"

"Or a Gary Stu. I mean with all the yaoi out there - …"

"_Thank_ you, Miroku, we don't want to know." Everyone shuddered simultaneously at that unpleasant thought.

Their revire was interrupted by the appearance of a tall man in a red coat. Like Cloud, his hair jetted upwards but more in a butch style. "Drinks all around!" he announced, grinning madly as swung onto the barstool next to Cloud. "Drink up to chase the unhappy faces away!"

As the bartender poured his drink, the man sighed happily. "Boy – you get to meet interesting people here, find out what happens to me and Meryl after I come back, and eat donuts by the thousands. I love fanfic conventions!"

Miroku managed to restrain Attan from drawing his blaster.

Vash went on, oblivious to the hole he was digging. "I met this one girl over at Studio Nine Productions and she promised to take me flying in her ship." He took a sip of his Bebop Engine Oil. "The Ebon Hawk – weird name for a ship…"

By this time, a vein stood on Atton's forehead. "Just one little shot," he pleaded. "He won't feel a thing."

The priest held him back. "Steady, friend."

"Then, I met another girl named 'Kagome' while I was doing an anime crossover romance."

Cloud grabbed Inuyasha, the hanyou eschewing Tessaiga and reaching for Vash's throat with his bare hands.

"After that, there was this beautiful demon-hunter who taught me how to waltz and Tifa Lockheart from Final Fantasy VII taught me how to make an interestingly named cocktail. I even got their phone numbers…" Still not noticing the attempts on his life, Vash finished his drink, waved cheerfully, and sauntered out.

For a moment, silence held the four. All the frustrations, all the bottled-up anger, all the tediousness of being in badly written fanfic – it was all too much.

Purposefully, Miroku stood up. "_Bugger_ the truce."

Atton followed suit, his blaster free at last. "My thoughts exactly."

Producing several dozen swords from various hidden sheaths, Cloud raised an eyebrow. "Let's do it, eh, Inuyasha?" He turned, but the hanyou was no longer present. From the street, there came a cry of "KAZE NO KIZU!"

"Dangit! He got him already!" Cloud bolted toward the door.

"I wouldn't say that." Atton and Miroku followed close behind.

"Why?"

"That move's been obsolete for at least fifty episodes, now."

Their departure welcomed silence. The barkeep walked over to the table next to the door and set another round in front of a lanky green-haired man and his muscled mutton-chopped friend. **AREN'T YOU TWO BOUNTY HUNTERS GOING AFTER HIM?** he asked curiously.

"Nah," said the green-haired man. "You know what they say: 'When Fanfic gets written, heroes never die.'"

His friend rolled his eyes as he drank. "Spike, you stole that from 'The Sandlot.'"

"When I'm buying the drinks, Jet, I get to spin the quotes."

A/N: Readeth and Revieweth an it pleaseth thee.


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